"las cosas tienen vida propia todo esta en despertarles el ánima//things (objetcs) have their own life all we have to do is wake up their souls"
- Malquiades, 100 Años de Soledad/ 100 Years of Solitude
I dont remember the first time I heard the tale of la Llorona but I remember being scared as hell by it. Everyone who’s been raised in a latino household has come to this story in one or another way. One of the earliest Mexica legends has it that the story was inspired by Emperor Moctezuma’s sister and the women’s sadness for the loss of sons and brothers in the battle against the Spanish. Whatever the setting, the story is almost always the same. And there’s been soooo many interpretations that my version can be just as good or bad as it gets but I know for fact that we have all been lloronas at some point of our lives. We’ve all shed tears hoping that our dolorcitos go away. I really dont think crying is an act of weakness. Actually most of the time it isnt. If it can cause such a comossion that it forces part of our bodies to burst out from within it has to be a sentimiento much much more powerful than that. it doesnt just serve a physiological function u silly
I rewrote the story a year ago inspired by my aunt Lupe… except Tia Lupe wasnt abandoned by her husband. She became a widow 2 months after her first child was born. When her baby turned 3 yrs she decided to leave Mexico to come work in CA. When she stayed with us (about 12 years ago!) la llorona would often visit at night and it made me wonder if it was her way of traveling back to her baby
Truth is.. tears are magical things. They cleanse, they connect us… they are the beginning of the cure. Crying in public was even considered normal until the industrial revolution, when diligent unemotional workers were needed to operate machinery. Lloronas these days have a lot more crying to do. We hear them all the time but we are so used to running away from them that we ignore their purpose and message. They cry behind a closed door, inside a closet, in the churches, the fields, las maquilas, the classrooms, manifestaciones …in the sudden piquetito of tristeza que queda cuando el amor que creiamos verdadero se va. I couldnt figure out the rest of the film when I first storyboarded it but i can hear her calling again…the second part sloooowly coming together